


A Fool's Dream

by SkyFireForever



Series: Les Amis Tales [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Genderfluid Jehan Prouvaire, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFireForever/pseuds/SkyFireForever
Summary: Grantaire always knew that he wasn't good enough to be friends with Les Amis. It just hurt to have proof.





	A Fool's Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completely self indulgent fic that I made in like thirty minutes. 
> 
> I'm working on a sequel for it! It will be called "A Poet's Sight" and I think I'm going to make a whole series out of this high school Au.
> 
> EDIT: A Poet's Sight is up and it will indeed be part of a series.

Grantaire sat alone at the lunch table, as he usually did. Well, as he used to do usually, it seemed that he had been sitting on his own less and less ever since he had joined Les Amis, the school’s GSA. Ever since he had joined, he’d found himself sitting with various other members of the club, listening to Jehan go over poems they were working on or watching Feuilly work intensely as he tried to perfect whatever origami shape he was making or laughing far too hard at Courfeyrac’s stupid jokes. In truth, Grantaire had felt far less lonely the past few weeks, he felt accepted, almost wanted, even. He knew that it was a stupid thought to have, of course no one actually wanted him and Les Amis only put up with him out of a sense of pity, but it still somehow felt better than nothing. He sighed deeply, looking down at the sheet laying on the table, feeling completely and utterly empty. He should’ve known better than to think this newfound friendship could possibly last, they never did. Registration was starting for next year and Grantaire was once again faced with the fact that he wasn’t smart enough to take the classes he wanted, that he wasn’t as smart as everyone else. He heard the rest of Les Amis talking about what college courses or honors classes they were planning on taking and Grantaire was brought back to the realization that he was stupid. He was barely passing the classes he was taking and those were standard, how could he even dream of being friends with people so intelligent? It was foolish of him. So, so foolish.

He sighed deeply and crumpled up the registration form, shoving it into the deepest corner of his pocket, not wanting to look at it or even think about it. He was supposed to be recovering, damn it, he didn’t need a constant reminder of how inferior he was. He cursed himself internally for not being smart enough, for not doing enough to get his grades up, he cursed himself more for thinking that way. He had been doing so well about treating himself better, about not putting himself down for every little thing he did wrong, he’d been getting better. Now, all of that seemed to be slipping down the drain due to one stupid thing, his thoughts were spiraling, he couldn’t stop thinking about how stupid he was or how much better off people would be without him or how he deserved every bit of shit that life threw at him. He crossed his arms around himself and scratched lightly at his arms, trying to distract himself from his thoughts with the dull pain. God, he was a disaster. He didn’t deserve Les Amis anyway. It would only be a matter of time before they grew sick of him anyway. He should just cut his losses and forget about them, go back to being alone. It would make everyone so much happier. He didn’t even realize that tears were building in his eyes before it was too late to stop them. 

Grantaire could hear someone sit across the table from him, but he couldn’t afford to look up, too afraid of whoever it was noticing the tears on his cheeks. God, he was pathetic. He closed his eyes and kept his face firmly towards the table, taking deep breaths in a desperate attempt to calm himself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Grantaire was certain that he’d never wanted to die more than he did in that moment. Of course it had to be Enjolras, the president of Les Amis and the boy Grantaire had been pining after for years. Of course it had to be him to see Grantaire at his weakest. He wished that he could just curl up and disappear. 

“I’m fine.” He forced out, hating how his voice wavered, how fake it sounded even to himself. He grimaced, why couldn’t he just lie convincingly? 

“That’s a lie.” Enjolras’ voice was as clear and demanding as ever, cutting through Grantaire’s walls like they were made of paper. “Something’s upsetting you. I…” For a split second, the blond sounded almost unsure of himself. That was definitely not something that Grantaire was used to. “Look, I know that we aren’t that close and I’ve never been very good at recognizing people’s feelings, but Courfeyrac said that you were upset and Combeferre suggested that I come and talk to you.”

Right, of course. It wasn’t even Enjolras’ idea to speak to him. Why would it be? He had no reason to want to speak to someone as disgusting and useless as Grantaire. This was just a pity call brought on by Enjolras’ friends. “I’m fine, Apollo.” Grantaire’s voice came out angrier this time, sharper. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so hostile, but the fact that Enjolras was so blatantly uncaring pissed him off. 

There was a long silence and Grantaire was beginning to think that his outburst had scared Enjolras off, but his voice eventually cut through the silence, calm and even. “Grantaire, I am trying to help you.” He didn’t sound upset or annoyed, which somehow made it hurt worse. “I thought that talking about the issue might help you within itself or that understanding the problem might allow me to help you find a solution. If you’d rather I leave you to your peace, I can do that.”

Grantaire didn’t want Enjolras to leave. He really, really didn’t, but he also didn’t want Enjolras to have to put up with him anymore. “Fine. Great. Goodbye.” He snapped at him, refusing to look up. He didn’t want to see the disappointment or anger on Enjolras’ face, he couldn’t handle it. Why did he do things like this? 

“Right. Okay.” Grantaire heard Enjolras stand up and walk away. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying so hard not to break down. He really couldn’t do anything right, could he?

He heard someone sit across from him again and he could only pray that it wasn’t Enjolras coming back. He kept his eyes closed and focused on his breathing. “I think you hurt Enjolras’ feelings.” Jehan’s voice reached Grantaire’s ears and he felt guilt wash over him.

“What do you care?” Grantaire was quick to wipe his eyes, hating himself for being so rude to someone as gentle and caring as Jehan. 

“I care about you.” Jehan said immediately. “And I care about Enjolras. I know that you’re upset and I know that you’re too stubborn to accept help when you need it, but you do need it.” 

“I don’t want your pity.” Grantaire growled. 

“And I’m not just giving you pity.” Jehan said gently. “I know that you’re a lot more hurt than you let on. I know that I have never seen you eat at lunch. I know that you wear hoodies all the time and don’t let your sleeves up.” Grantaire was startled, head snapping up. He didn’t think that anyone ever noticed those things, no one had ever addressed them before. Here Jehan was, reading him like a book. It pissed him off that they could see through him so easily.

“You don’t know sh-”

Jehan cut him off by rolling up their sleeves, revealing the faded outlines of scars across their pale skin. Grantaire was unable to tear his eyes away, all thoughts leaving his brain immediately.  Jehan Prouvaire was one of the most gentle, caring, and loving people that Grantaire had ever met. He couldn’t imagine them feeling broken enough to hurt themself. It just seemed so impossible. “Grantaire, you aren’t alone in this.” Jehan said quietly. “I’ve struggled with depression and anorexia for years. I understand what you’re going through and I want to help.” They pulled their sleeves down. “You just have to be willing to accept it.”

Grantaire looked away. “I don’t need your help.” He muttered. “I don’t need anyone’s help.” 

Jehan looked at him sadly. “And as long as you believe that, you won’t get the help you need.” They slowly stood up and walked away, looking back at Grantaire with a sad gaze in their eye. “When you’re ready, I’ll still be here.” They signed to him, taking advantage of their shared knowledge of sign language. They sat back with their friends, leaving Grantaire alone with his thoughts. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Leave suggestion on what you might want me to write about.


End file.
